


first time

by themartianwitch



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Awkward First Times, Bodily Fluids, Characters are 16-Years-Old, F/M, Loss of Virginity, No Depiction of Actual Sex--Just the Immediate Aftermath, Nudity, Reference to Vaginal Penetration, Season 1, uhhhh whatever the HECK else i should tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27028675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themartianwitch/pseuds/themartianwitch
Summary: "Her eyes catch sight of the condom on the floor splattered into the star patterns on her rug. The milky-white fluid inside of it—or at least, leaking out from it now—was expected, and she could tell by the sounds he’d made in her ear and the way his body moved that he’d finished.What she shocks her is the blood she sees streaked along the rubber."M'gann and Conner's first time having sex is slightly less traumatic than their first time dying. Set between S1E17 & 18.
Relationships: Kon-El | Conner Kent/M'gann M'orzz
Kudos: 16





	first time

**Author's Note:**

> The summary excerpt is a litmus test, I think: if you were willing to click on this fic after seeing it, then this fic probably won't squick you out too much.

Conner slides his hand out from between the base of M’gann’s spine and the edge of the bed. M’gann unlocks her ankles crossed at the base of his, slowly pulling her legs apart and feeling the joints of her hips pop and creak.

" _Oof_ ," M'gann breathes shakily, eyes brought forward enough from having rolled into the back of her head to see the ceiling now and not just her own fluttering lashes.

Time moves slower than it ever has. They unclench their jaws. They catch their breath, hers seemingly harder to regain than his. Without words and with a slowly unwinding unity, the sound of their breaths overlapping without synchronizing fills the room with a loud silence.

Sweat is everywhere. Conner peels the skin of his chest up and off from the skin of M’gann’s, and the steam between them dissipates, releasing them to the ever-present chill of the Cave made fresh by their bodies separating. With her eyes still heavy and lips still hot and throbbing from too many kisses, M’gann runs her hand down from Conner’s cheek to his chest and then skims fingertips along his arm as he braces himself to disconnect from her fully. His hands bear his weight down into spaces on either side of her head when she had just felt it all on _her_ , beating against her like a heart and then sinking into her as he'd gasped and groaned. His mouth hangs open now, just like hers. No smile, no more kisses, just softening panting and heaviness.

Conner’s hands brace M’gann’s hips then thighs as he steps back, careful not to let that half of her body simply drop to the floor now that it’s over. With her elbows and neck, M’gann slides herself further up onto the bed and sighs. Things inside and around her feel loose and bright and sore and dizzying, but monumental above all else, and so, _so_ significant.

Her body’s never done anything quite like this.

Neither has his.

Still lying with heavy, suddenly _profoundly_ tired legs draped along the edge of the bed, M’gann reaches for Conner’s hand again, ready to close her eyes and feel everything that comes next, that comes after, and feel it with _him_. Just the _thought_ of touching his skin again now that they’ve done what they’ve done fills her head with an all-consuming burning haze--a good kind. The coolness of the open air can’t fight the warmth of sweat still dripping down her skin and win, and she doesn't care.

Conner doesn’t take her hand. M’gann opens her eyes and cranes her neck up to see Conner already back at his clothes, sheathing himself back into his boxers. He grabs next for the shirt she had slid off his chest and tossed into her desk chair.

“C-Conner?”

Conner doesn’t speak, just gives a low growl and fumbles with the shirt—tears it at the hem as he pulls it back over his chest. His head stays low enough for even his short bangs to fall before his eyes, but M’gann can see his mouth contorted into something like anger.

Her heart skips a beat—in a bad way. She pries herself up from the sweat-sticky bedsheet and props herself up by the elbows. Her naked stomach clenches with nerves; she thought she’d have his arms around it now, or even his own naked stomach pressed into hers. “Conner, what’s wrong?”

“Tell Tornado and get to the infirmary.” Conner’s voice is gravely, yet it shakes. He gathers his jeans into his fist and stomps towards the door, still half-naked and barefoot.

With no hope of preserving the feeling in her body any longer, M’gann sits up in earnest. “W-why would I want to tell _Tornado_ we just”

Her eyes catch sight of the condom on the floor splattered into the star patterns on her rug. The milky-white fluid inside of it—or at least, leaking out from it now—was expected, and she could tell by the sounds he’d made in her ear and the way his body moved that he’d finished.

What she shocks her is the blood she sees streaked along the rubber.

Unable to tell from the mess which side of the condom it’s on, her first thought is to look to Conner, who stands hunched at her door seemingly waiting for her to pick up from her pause. But feeling heat continue to slide between the tops of her thighs even without him still there, she checks herself. Blood smears the sheet beneath her as she moves her legs, and as she puts a hand between them, what already felt raw and throbbing suddenly feels _sharp_ with the clarity of what’s not just different, but _wrong_ about it. Her fingers come back up thinly coated with red.

For a moment, her head spins, but as she rubs the blood between her fingers, she realizes it’s much more slippery than normal blood. Diluted, and she knows by what. “ _Conner_ , this isn’t what it--”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Conner growls back at her from a suddenly open doorway.

“Conner, _please_ , it’s _okay_ , _p-please_ don’t—”

Jeans still in his fist, he rushes out the door.

“Conner, a-at _least_ put on _pants_!” M’gann manages to shout as she stands. Her knees buckle the moment they take on her full weight again, though, and her head feels like a fishbowl threatening to spill. She opts to float, even if pushing herself off the floor makes every muscle and joint in her lower body twinge with pain. From a higher vantage point, at least, M’gann can see Conner stumbling into his jeans not far from her doorway, furiously yanking them up his legs. Calling her bio-cloth harness up from the floor to latch back around her chest, she shapes her shirt, skirt, and jacket back onto her body. Redressing feels almost _nauseating_ with every inch of her body still sticky and tender.

This isn’t how she’d pictured the aftermath, the after _glow_.

For now, she clenches her thighs together and flies.

A swish of a white tail at the west end of the hall clues her in on where to turn next. Wolf greets her with an action-ready stance and with his ears twitching in all directions. He sniffs the air as she approaches him. “Did you see Conner run by here?” she asks him. “Can you show me where to find him?”

Wolf cocks his head to the side at the sound of Conner’s name, but even as he stares at M’gann, he doesn't stop sniffing. The next thing M'gann knows, his nose is pressed to her wrist like a cold, wet magnet. She pulls her hand away only to open Wolf’s attention up to her crotch. He bumps it through her skirt with his nose.

M’gann bats her skirt down against her thigh as Wolf tries parting its billowing pleats in order to further investigate the smell. “I _know_ , I _know,_ I _know_ what it smells like!” she whines as she rises higher in the air to escape Wolf’s curiosity, feeling her muscles protest at gravity’s strengthening pull. “I know _who_ it smells like,” she laments as she floats away, leaving Wolf as activated but as perplexed into inaction as she’d found him.

_[Conner?]_ she tries projecting out onto the psychic plane, assuming and _hoping_ he’s still in range.

_[Nope,]_ he responds over the link.

_[But—]_

_[Nope,]_ he repeats, and with that, he puts up mental interference: a _suggestion_ , more than anything, of a fuzzy static wall, but what it communicates to her is still clear. She disconnects.

That brief blip of his awareness into hers, though, lingers in her mind as the answer to where he’s gone: he’s at the bikes.

M’gann rushes herself down the hall by the force of her mind alone, but moving still hurts. Despite keeping her tiny wound stable between tightly clenched hips and thighs, the stinging turns sharper and sharper as her body’s moved around it. Pausing in the air, she looks down either end of the hall. Wolf has not followed. Red Tornado is likely still in his loft—not that she could sense him psychically, but she’d know from her own position hovering in the air if he were nearby and airborne, and the sounds of his metal footsteps are hard to miss.

Lifting only as much of her skirt as necessary to reach her hand underneath, she feels around for the exact source of the pain. By touch alone, it’s hard to tell what _is_ and _isn’t_ blood, but were the wound _gushing,_ she knows Wolf wouldn’t be the only one that couldn’t ignore the smell.

Dipping further in—and keeping her eyes darting on loop between either end of the hall—she finds what isn’t just sore but is actively hurting. Carefully, she moves the tissue around it both by hand and by will. The rupture in her hymen heals until there’s barely room for _one_ finger, especially at the awkward angle she’s entered it from. She slips her fingers back out. They're left slick with thin traces of red under her nails; wincingly, she wipes her hand on her already red skirt. The bathroom or bedroom or _anywhere_ more private and less urgent would have been a better place for her to do this—just _definitely_ not the _infirmary_ —but Conner wouldn’t just _wait_ and let her explain that he hadn't _hurt_ her just by trying to make love to her.

That’s why he’s running, she knows, and that’s why she has to _go_.

Sphere meets M'gann at the entrance to the garage, lights and sounds from her face plate blipping furiously. M’gann looks. Conner’s bike is gone.

Her heart drops in her chest. All she’d wanted was for them to _love_ like that. The kisses, the caresses, the closeness—not climaxing would be fine, as while she’d wanted to save her first one for him, she knows that _technically_ she could always reach it on her own. She wasn’t expecting it on her first time, until with him inside her, she felt like she could feel anything.

Now she’s _ruined_ it, and he thinks _he_ has. Sinking in the air, she can’t help but sob.

A motor outside revs harshly just to cut off into silence.

M’gann floats herself down the ramp into the night air. The chill of the breeze and the sway of the grass and the overall _openness_ of the outside world makes her feel naked despite her clothes—she'd left off her panties lest she stain them, but her skin _everywhere_ feels so bare when just moments ago, it’d all been pressed against _his_.

Conner stands mounted on his bike, arms hanging limply at his sides. Just the sight of his legs stretched around something makes her wince sympathetically. She approaches him slowly from behind, wanting to run a hand along his shoulder as she passes beside him, but his lack of basic acknowledgement of her presence warns her against it.

“You…” M’gann floats before him and swallows. “You forgot your helmet, that’s not good.”

Conner keeps his head low. M’gann rotates in the air to peek up at his face, keeping her skirt in place with her hands. Conner’s brow is in knots. His eyes and cheeks are red and glistening with something more than just sweat. M’gann’s own eyes tear up at the sight.

“I’m.. I’m _okay_ , Conner, _really_ ,” she says softly. Conner's eyes meet hers only for a second before darting away.

“You _bled_ ,” Conner gulps out. “ _I did that_.”

“It… happens sometimes, Conner! You know that. We _read_ that.” She lays her hand atop his shoulder. “Especially when it’s the… the first time.”

“It didn’t _have_ to,” Conner says. “I thought we used enough—”

“We used _plenty_ , Conner. I don’t think I could have _been_ more—”

“Then it wasn’t enough!” Conner snaps at her. “Then it’s not enough. Not for us. Not for me. Not when I can hurt you.” Dropping his stare back to the ground, he hunches his shoulders and brings up clenching fists. “I’m never doing that again.”

“I already _fixed_ it, Conner.”

Conner meets her eyes again.

“It was just a… a little tear, really, a-and I, I don’t know, I probably didn’t have—” _Didn’t have everything shifted right down there to begin with_ , she almost says, but it’s supposed to _already_ be right as far he knows—as far as he _can_ know. “Maybe… because I’m a _Martian,_ mine is just a little _different._ Maybe it's… not good for this after all. B-but I, I think maybe we just didn’t _both_ need to be thrusting our hips together so hard at the end, that I should’ve just _let you_ , _uh-um_ …”

M’gann sinks low enough in the air for her bare feet to drop down into the grass. Her knees almost follow, but she catches herself with the handlebar of Conner’s bike. Conner’s hand then catches her hand, wraps itself tightly around it _and_ the handlebar—his hands are so much bigger than hers, than her _human_ hands, and her heart flutters for a moment with the truth of how much she _loves_ that—and Conner’s eyes bore into hers with concern, replacing the joy in her chest with guilt.

“It… it felt good, didn’t it?” M’gann asks him.

Conner neither nods nor shakes his head. “I hurt you. How was _that_ supposed to feel good?”

“B-before, before that. Before you… saw the blood. I thought we were…” She runs the tip of her tongue along the insides of still sweetly-sore lips. “I thought we were… doing something really _special_ between us. And I felt… I felt like you… I felt _you_.” She smiles. “Everywhere. And I felt like you were _happy_ , j-just like… _I_ was. That you liked… touching me like that and… putting our bodies together like that.” Her brow furrows, and her smile becomes strained. “It wasn’t supposed to be all for _me_ —is that what it _was_?”

Conner’s stare wavers as he blinks at even more pain surfacing in his eyes. “Why didn’t you _tell me_ I was _hurting_ you?”

“I… couldn’t tell.” M’gann looks down at his hand on hers. He’s squeezing _too_ tight now, but wordlessly, she clenches her knuckles inside his grip, and he loosens his hold--just like he and she have already learned to do with their hands. “Really, it—it didn’t _feel_ like it was hurting at all, or it—it felt _intense,_ but I just wanted to feel it _more_ , a-as much as I could, I just… didn’t really know exactly _how_ it was supposed to feel, but I… I liked it when it was happening.” She huffs a sigh and slips her hand out from under Conner’s hand completely, gripping her elbow with it instead. “Maybe… maybe something’s _wrong_ with me that I thought it felt good. I-I’m sorry.” Her voice cracks. “I-I didn’t mean to _hurt_ you.”

Conner looks down and sighs, giving the handlebars of his bike a light slap with loose hands. “That’s what _I_ wanted to say.”

M’gann smiles and lays her hands gently on top of his. “It’s okay. I’m okay, _really_.”

Conner scans her face for signs to the contrary. “You’re gonna bruise,” he says.

“Why do you say that?”

Conner brings a hand up to her neck and ghosts his fingertips along the side of it, making her flinch more from the tantalizing suggestion of his touch than from any sort of pain. “You’re all red here. It’s dark.”

“It’s not like you _bit_ me,” M’gann says with a giggle.

“It’s not like I didn’t almost,” Conner admits bluntly, making her laugh even harder. He doesn’t join in, just stares at her silently. M’gann clears her throat.

With a thought, she turns her skin back from Caucasian to green. “There, now it won’t even show!”

Conner runs his eyes down her chest and past her belt where her red skirt hangs around her waist. The scrutiny alone makes her feel the urge to squeeze her legs together again, but she keeps her knees still.

"I… I fixed that, really. It's not bleeding anymore, I promise. You can check!" M'gann's face flashes hot the moment she's said it. "B-back in the _room_ , anyway, _not_ —not out here, please." M'gann takes both of Conner’s hands into hers. "Can we _please_ just go back to the room now?"

"...I don't want to do it like that," Conner mutters.

M'gann blinks in confusion.

"I mean… I don't want it to be that I _hurt_ you and you just patch it up, pretend it didn't happen. If _that's_ the only way we can do it then I'm _not_ doing it, ever again. It's not worth it for _that."_

"Conner, really, it's so _easy_ for me to just _fix_ things if you—"

"I don't care. I'm _not_ gonna treat your body like that. Even if you…" His hands slip out of her hold just to wrap around her wrists. "... Even if you couldn't shapeshift, I'd… still love it. So that's how I'm gonna keep loving it."

M'gann looks down at their hands and shivers even as her eyes turn hot. She'd love her body, too, if this were the only shape it could ever be. " _Oh_ , o-o-okay."

Keeping hold of her wrists, Conner dismounts from his bike. That slightest tug of downward pressure as he regains his balance with her in his grip makes her whole body tense. Pangs of _guilt_ run through her hips, more pressing than the pain—she knows he had to have felt her flinch.

He lets go. M'gann trembles at the knees, feeling ready to fall.

She lets herself fall into Conner's chest before he can have a _single_ other thought of her needing him to leave her and her body alone. For a moment, Conner's body only stiffens against hers, save for a slight dip at his knees to bring the crook of his neck down lower for her head. "I'm sorry," she says into his shirt. "We looked at a lot of ways to do it, but I just _really_ wanted to do it that way, a-at least the first time. We… we don't have to do it again—in, u-um, in _any_ way, _ever_ , if you don't want to. I promise." She brings a hand up to his shoulder to feel more of herself pressed against him. "I just want to be with you."

The next thing she knows, Conner's hands are touching down onto her back, fingertips sliding down her spine. "Is it… is it hurting here?" he asks as he cusps his hands gently around her hips.

"Mmm…."

"M'gann, I… I need you to tell me. I didn't…" His chin presses into her cheek. "I didn't feel when I was supposed to stop," he says, voice shaking in her ear. "I need to know."

M'gann's breath shakes with his. "Mm-hmm," she responds, pulling her lips in tight and nodding against his chest.

His hands go lower, pressing her rear.

"Mmmm…" She shakes her head against his chest. "Not so much. It's mostly…" Doing her best to still keep her forehead touched to his collarbone, she steps back and takes his hands, brings them back up to her hips and angles them slightly inward, placing his thumbs right where her hips start to dip towards her pubis. "And also, _mmn…_ " She splays his fingers out along the outward curve of her hips and presses fingertips on both his hands into her flesh with her thumbs. " _Oof_ ," she whispers before breathing a laugh. "There it is. You'd think between combat, training, and _cheerleading_ practice that I'd be _used_ to getting _bumped_ around, but I guess it's… _different_ when it's so close and… intense."

Conner keeps his hands where she's placed them even after she brings her own back up to his shoulders. The warmth of his palms is at least a different warmth than the soreness, and it feels good just to be held by him again.

"It’s different ‘cuz you're trusting me not to hurt you," Conner mutters into her ear.

"That applies to the Team and the Bumblebees, too," M'gann says with a laugh. "And I _still_ am, Conner. I still _do_."

Conner's head sinks fully into the crook of her neck, and he mumbles something into her chest. All M'gann gets from it is hot breath and a deep, soft voice thrumming into her skin and down to her bones, but the actual words he says escape her. "What was that?" she asks him.

"I said I _did_ like it. When we were doing it.”

M’gann smiles, pushing the curve of her cheek against his ear and hoping he can feel it. “What was your favorite part?”

“You mean I gotta pick?” Conner responds, and M’gann laughs, shaking the both of them, but she can feel him breathe something like a laugh against her chest, too.

“I want to talk about it! _Come on_.”

“Fine,” Conner says, raising his head. “I liked when you…” He trails off as something pulls his attention back towards the Cave.

Sphere rolls into view in the open entrance, blipping her lights. “You wanted to talk about it?” Conner says to M’gann grimly. “Now’s your chance.”

“To _Sphere?…_ Oh. _Oh, no."_ M’gann quickly establishes a psychic link between them. Conner nods in acceptance of it, visibly swallowing.

Red Tornado flies down to the foot of the ramp, cape billowing and leaves circling around him in a frantic orbit before dispersing. M’gann feels the wind give one strong dying gust as he lands, and she clings to Conner’s shoulders to keep from swaying.

“I have been _told_ you were intending to _leave_ the Cave,” Red Tornado states. “The _school_ day cannot begin until _daylight_. And no _mission_ would be assigned to you by Batman without the presence of your Team _leader_ , Aqualad.”

_[Is he… sassing us?]_ M’gann asks Conner over the link.

_[I’m just trying to figure out who **told** him,] _Conner responds.

_[Sphere saw you leaving with the bike. I told you she gets jealous.]_

“Is _this_ an attempt to… ‘sneak’ ‘out’?” Red Tornado asks them.

“Uhh…” Conner responds as he looks to M’gann. M’gann responds in kind.

“ _Uhhh…_ ” _[Well, now’s… **your** chance.]_

_[What’s that supposed to mean?]_

_[You told me to tell Tornado when you ran out of the room. I’m sure he’d be **fascinated** to hear why we were doing the, um.. the **human reproductive act** without… being human **or** wanting to reproduce.] _M’gann barely stifles a giggle as she thinks it. _[Really, it’d be a **great** new perspective for him to get on… **meatbags** like us. Go on!]_

_[Yeah, no.]_ “We, uh… _yeah_ , we... _thought_ about it,” Conner shouts back to Red Tornado, “but we changed our minds.”

“You caught us!” M’gann adds, and Conner nods emphatically.

“Yeah, we’re going back to bed. Promise.”

_[Promise?]_ M’gann asks him, smiling at him.

_[Promise,]_ Conner replies, returning her smile. _[And I **mean** ‘we.’]_

“Then allow me to… make myself understood. Your sessions with Black Canary have already cleared you from requiring close observation. You are no longer under any directive to remain in the Cave at all times unless otherwise given permission. I simply had been made to believe there was cause for… concern.” Red Tornado’s head tilts slightly to the side. “I will be returning to my loft. You may alert me if an issue arises that requires my involvement.” And with that, the wind swirls back around him and lifts him into the air. He returns to the Cave without any further commentary, leaving M’gann and Conner barefoot in the grass and dumbstruck in each other’s arms beside Conner’s bike.

_[... **Aren’t** we supposed to have a **curfew**?_] M’gann ponders. _[We’re **sixteen**.]_

_[Works for me,]_ Conner thinks with a shrug. _[I’m just stuck on us being that loud.]_ He blinks hard at the thought. _[I mean **you** were, kinda, at the end there, but…]_

_[Well, um…]_ M’gann feels herself blush. _[Wolf did **smell** me, too, and there was the, uh… you know.]_

_[Did they really **tag-team** us?] _Conner thinks in exasperation as Sphere lingers in the Cave’s entrance, face lights unblinking like she’s maintaining a glare.

“Well, we _did_ kick Wolf out, and normally he _does_ want to spend the night with you,” M’gann says, switching their conversation back to the outside of their heads.

“Everybody’s got an opinion,” Conner says as he hooks an arm around the small of M’gann’s back. “And I didn’t ask for theirs.” A hand slips down the back of her leg, and the next thing M’gann knows, her feet are off the ground again, this time being held up by Conner instead of herself.

“Oh! I _like_ this!” M’gann says as she wraps her arms around Conner’s neck. “...Did _I_ maybe say that... too loud?”

“You wouldn’t have floated out here if it didn’t hurt to move,” Conner states.

"I'm… faster in the air than on foot, you know.”

“Stop. You already told me the truth. Don’t take it back now.”

“...Okay.” M’gann lays her forehead against the corner of his jaw. “ _But_ , if you just want me to _complain_ instead… there _is_ still a big white stain in the middle of my rug.”

“Oh, uh…” Conner’s hand at her waist gathers a fistful of her shirt. “Oops.”

“I know it must have been… kind of _slippery…_ ”

“More like my hands were shaking.”

“I love you.”

Being completely in Conner’s arms again makes M’gann feel more sleepy than anything; the words leave her in a groggy voice, but she means them.

“...Because my hands were shaking?” Conner asks quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Because you’re _you_ ,” M’gann tells him as she closes her eyes.

For a moment, all Conner does is hold her. With her head against his, she can feel his jaw clench as he gulps. She hums in contentment. Only then does Conner start to move.

“Oh!” M’gann says as she blinks her eyes back open. “Hel- _lo_ , Megan! If _you’re_ carrying _me_ , then you can’t bring the _bike_ back up with us. I’ll get it.” Keeping one arm locked around Conner’s neck, M’gann extends a hand to take telekinetic hold of the bike. It rolls slowly but steadily along with them as if alive and self-directing. Up above, Sphere lets out a harsh chime of what rings suspiciously like _disgust_.

They’re halfway up the ramp before Conner’s steps start to slow. The scratch of his jean legs against each other becomes louder, and M'gann can feel his and her combined weight be displaced all the more strangely with each footfall. She can’t see for sure, but she gets the sense from how he’s holding her and how he’s holding himself that he’s walking with his knees bent and his thighs clenched together.

“You didn’t… get hurt there, too, did you?” M’gann asks, her heart starting to race. “A-are you sore? I-I can float! Should we call Tornado?”

Conner slows to a complete stop, tensing at the neck, and M’gann can feel herself sinking in his arms.

“I, uh…" Conner hoists her body up securely against his chest again just as something else beneath her seems to flap to the ground. "I… kinda forgot my belt.”

M'gann wills Conner's pants back up his legs and kisses his cheek.

_[Think that might have been my favorite part just now, actually,]_ Conner thinks to her loudly enough for her to hear, and M'gann giggles.

_[I had even more fun **pulling them off,** ] _M'gann responds, kissing him again.


End file.
